


The Best Laid Plans

by platinum_firebird



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mission Fic, Undercover as Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25536511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platinum_firebird/pseuds/platinum_firebird
Summary: To catch serial grave-robber Jamaric Farl and help explore an ancient Jedi temple, Lor San Tekka asks Luke to go undercover with him on Farl's crew and accompany them on a mission to a deserted planet in the Outer Rim.The only catch? Their cover story.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker/Lor San Tekka
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5
Collections: Just Married Exchange 2020





	The Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aurae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurae/gifts).



Luke had been fiddling with his tie since the moment he’d stepped out of his hotel room. His droid driver, passive and expressionless in the front seat, made no comment on it, but after the fifth time he reached up to straighten it, Luke forced himself to lace his fingers in his lap and keep them there. _There is no reason to be so nervous_ , he told himself, though the roiling in his gut didn’t agree.

He switched his attention to the dizzying mass of glowing lights outside the window. Travel through Corusant’s clogged skylines was slow, but fascinating for someone like Luke. He tried to let himself get lost in the flow of lights and buildings and speeders, a view so different and alien from what he’d grown up with on Tatooine. There, the windswept plains had been so empty and devoid of life, it was entirely possible to believe he was the only living person in the universe. Here, though, the pulse of sentient life was so strong it was like a throbbing in the back of Luke’s mind, a gyrating spiral of light and colour and _life_ in the Force.

All too soon the air taxi let him out at the drop-off point for Cintein Plaza. The square was wide and pretty, with a tall balabola tree and an ornate fountain in the centre; it held a moderate crowd, with species from all over represented among them. All of them, Luke noted, looked well-groomed and put together, and there was not a person among them who’d dressed casually. The restaurants and bars surrounding Cintein Plaza were some of the most exclusive and highly regarded in the galaxy, and their clientele reflected that. Luke was just glad he’d bought a new jacket for the occasion.

As usual, he got a few looks as he moved through the crowd. Apparently these people either weren’t interested in him, or didn’t want to seem like ‘groupies’, since none of them actually approached him. He felt relieved for a second as he reached the door of The Emerald Garden, the restaurant in which Lor San Tekka had, somehow, secured a table for them both. Then he actually stepped inside, and his anxiety spiked once again.

Everything in the restaurant was green, from the deepest forest through shades of emerald to the lightest pastel. Even the servers were green from head to toe; many of them were Mirialan like the restaurant’s founder, but Luke could also see Rodians, Nautolans and a few green-skinned Twi’leks among the staff. It was a Mirialan woman with a beautiful pattern of interlocking triangle tattoos across her forehead that approached him, smiling brightly. “Good evening, Mr Skywalker,” she said, “Let me show you to your table.”

Luke smiled and followed her, internally cringing at being recognised so easily. He still hadn’t got used to the _fame_ aspect of being the only known Jedi in the galaxy.

The server led him toward a table at the back of the restaurant which sat slightly apart from the others, partially blocked from view by a bright emerald drape. The table and chairs were made of deep forest green crystal, and rising from one of them to greet him was Lor San Tekka, effortlessly elegant in a long, sapphire blue robe.

Luke had only met Lor San Tekka a handful of times. His name had been legend among the Alliance during the war, with tales of his incredible discoveries and adventures swiping artifacts from under the Empire’s nose being passed back and forth between the Rebels. Luke had never had the chance to meet him then, but in the peace that followed the Empire’s defeat, Lor’s knowledge and experience had been crucial to helping the New Republic provide appropriate aid to several Outer Rim worlds. Leia had been the one to meet him first, and she’d introduced Luke to him at a fancy party on Hosnian Prime - an occasion Luke remembered with great embarrassment. He’d started off tongue-tied and awkward, and ended up far too enthusiastic and probably very annoying. Not, he thought, the shining paragon of grace and dignity that Lor San Tekka had expected from a Jedi, not that the man had been impolite enough to let that show.

They had exchanged quite a few messages over the holonet since then, and Lor had given Luke a complete copy of his research to date - ‘for the new Jedi Archives’, as his message had said.

Luke could admit to himself that he was both fascinated and intimidated by Lor San Tekka; partly because of the air of elegance and competence that he exuded, partly because of his obvious intelligence and extensive knowledge of history, philosophy, and archaeology - and, yes, because all those things combined with his looks made him incredibly attractive.

“Luke,” Lor said warmly, holding out a hand for him to shake, “It’s been too long.”

Luke agreed, and they sat, the server disappearing with a promise to bring back wine and food menus. “So,” Lor said, “How do you like this place?”

“It’s beautiful,” Luke said immediately.

“But…?” Lor said, his eyes twinkling. Of course he’d instantly picked up on Luke’s hesitation.

“But…let’s just say this is more Leia’s environment than mine.”

“Over the years, I’ve learnt there is great value in being able to adapt to any environment,” Lor said, still smiling. “Of course, it’s something that comes with time. If I may say, you certainly look the part.”

“Ah, thanks,” Luke said, resisting the temptation to pick at his new jacket. He only had it because, on hearing the name of the restaurant, Leia had informed him with certainty that none of his clothes would be acceptable. He’d spent most of the day in Coruscant’s high-end clothing stores, trying things on and sending Leia pictures so she could approve or disapprove of them.

“Still, I expect you’re more interested in what we came here to discuss,” Lor said. He paused for a moment as the server returned, and scanned the wine menu for only a second before saying, “The Nubian Rosado, I think. If that’s acceptable?” he asked, looking at Luke.

Luke’s experience with alcohol was almost entirely comprised of the moonshine Hobbie had brewed in secret corners of their Rebel bases, plus Han’s cheap beers and Chewie’s strange, sometimes toxic liqueurs, both kept in a disorganised mishmash in a corner of the _Falcon’s_ cold storage. He nodded, trusting that Lor’s fine taste in clothes would be reflected in his taste in wines.

“So,” he said once the server was gone, “I will get straight to the point. I would like you to accompany me on a mission to infiltrate a crew of… less-than-legal treasure hunters, who I believe have a solid lead on the location of an ancient Jedi temple.”

Luke’s interest was piqued immediately. “A Jedi temple? How old?”

“Oh, quite old, if their research is correct. They may be unsavoury, as a group, but they have one dedicated, reliable researcher on board. I’m not sure how she fell in with them, but if possible I would like extracting her to be part of the mission as well.”

Luke nodded. “And when you say ‘unsavoury’ and ‘less-than-legal’…”

“I mean that Jamaric Farl is a despicable grave-robber,” Lor said, his voice suddenly heated, “And I need the New Republic’s help to bring him and his team to justice.”

Luke blinked. He hadn’t known Lor San Tekka very long, but the man had always seemed uniformly calm and collected. The sudden outburst of anger was unexpected. “A grave-robber?”

“Oh, yes. Farl takes whatever he can get his grubby little hands on, and then sells it off to the highest bidder on the black market. I hear he has contacts with the Black Sun and the Hutts, to name only two of his distasteful connections.”

“Well, if we can prove he’s been dealing with them, he can be prosecuted for sure,” Luke said. “I’m, er, actually not familiar with Republic law on the subject of, er, grave-robbing.”

“It’s a complex issue,” Lor said, his mouth tightening, “At least, according to the old Republic law code - parts of which I believe have been adopted by the New Republic. Stealing cultural artifacts from inhabited worlds is illegal, and strictly monitored by many worlds. On uninhabited worlds, the rules are… less clear.”

“So if we can record them closing a black market deal with one of the crime syndicates, it’ll be easier to get them convicted for that.”

“Exactly.” They both paused again as the server appeared with their wine, and after serving it, asked if they were ready to order. “I’m going to have my usual, I think,” Lor said, “A Kalitmai shrimp, please.”

Luke scanned the menu quickly, realising that he hadn’t even given it a glance. “The nerf steak, please,” he said, and the server collected their menus before disappearing again. “I would’ve taken this job without it, but I do appreciate the wine and dining,” Luke said, grinning.

“Ah, well, you haven’t heard the entirety of my plan yet,” Lor said, with a humour that Luke sensed masked a thread of genuine uncertainty.

“Uh oh. What’s the catch?”

“My in for the mission is the woman I mentioned before, the researcher; Keather Evernor is her name. I managed to start up a correspondence with her months ago, which is how I found out about the Jedi temple. I also managed to form a personal friendship with her, and she confided in me that she is working with Jamaric Farl because of a lack of other options; we’ve made a deal that if she convinces Farl to hire me for the mission, I will help extract her and set her up with a position at a reputable institution.”

Luke raised his eyebrows. “You can just do that? I know you were a visiting lecturer at a couple of universities, but…”

“A personal friend of mine at the University of Bar’leth assures me that Evernor can work with him as a research assistant while she completes a formal undergraduate degree. With her skills and that position on her record, she should then have a number of options when it comes to gaining her doctorate.” Lor waved an impatient hand. “But you need not worry about Evernor’s future - that will be my responsibility. The problem is that, in order to mask my identity, I convinced Evernor that I was an expert only in Galactic History. She believes all my insights on archaeology come from my fictional husband, a professor at the University of Chandrila. That is where I am from, as far as she knows.”

“Right. So to continue the charade, you’d need someone to… play your husband,” Luke said, slowing down as the implications sunk in.

“I could go alone, of course,” Lor said, “But to be quite honest, Jamaric Farl is an intimidating and ruthless individual, and I would very much like to have backup while travelling to a remote, uninhabited planet with him, not to mention while trying to record him cutting a deal with a crime syndicate. I could also pretend you are another associate, but Evernor already knows and trusts my persona’s fictional husband. I think it would be easier to use an established persona as a cover identity, but if you’re uncomfortable, of course, we could do otherwise.”

Luke certainly was _something_. Embarrassed? Eager? He couldn’t put his finger on it. The thought of posing as Lor’s husband made him both excited and queasy with nerves. _Would anyone even believe it?_ He wasn’t entirely certain they would - if he could even convince them he wasn’t in fact Luke Skywalker, extremely famous Jedi Knight.

“I think that’s the best plan,” he said, feeling his stomach swoop even as he said it. “But there’s one problem. I’m pretty… recognisable.”

Lor smiled. “Ah, don’t worry about that. I know a few people who’re experts in disguise; by the time they’re done, I doubt even Princess Organa and General Solo would recognise you.”

“Okay,” Luke said, “Then let’s do it.”

“Excellent,” Lor said, and he brought out a datapad. “We can go over a few more details now - and here comes our dinner,” he said, as the server arrived with steaming plates.

The food was _incredible_. Luke found that, between enjoying his meal and listening to Lor go over the finer details of the mission - including the particulars of Luke’s cover identity and the long and bloody history of Jamaric Farl and his crew - he didn’t have to do much talking. They parted ways at the end of the meal with a promise to meet again in three days time, by which time Lor should have secured their places on the mission while Luke organised their transport out to Nar Shaddaa.

Luke arrived home to a message on his comm from Leia, which said simply, _How did it go?_

He contemplated his reply for a long minute, considering telling her everything, but in the end he left out the part about his cover identity. Leia would need to know what they were doing and where they’d be, just in case everything went south; she didn’t need to know all the details.

*

Their journey to Nar Shaddaa was largely uneventful. Very few ships flew directly from Coruscant to the Smuggler’s Moon, but Luke had been able to secure them legitimate transport as far as Toydaria, from which it was easy enough to find a freighter looking to make a little extra money transporting some passengers. Luke kept his hood over his head and let Lor do the talking, money changed hands, and they spent the next ten hours in the freighters’ main hold, completely ignored by the crew.

Luke had been to Nar Shaddaa before, but only briefly. He kept his hood up as they descended the ship’s ramp, with one hand on his bag and the other wrapped around his lightsaber where it was hidden under his cloak.

“You’re so tense I can almost feel you vibrating,” Lor said, his voice laced with humour, as they exited the spaceport and joined the crowds thronging the busy streets.

“This place does have quite the reputation,” Luke said.

“Not to worry; we won’t be here long.” Lor scanned the street, checking something that Luke couldn’t see, and then set off. He led the way through dimly lit streets full of people and smog, seeming completely unaffected by his surroundings. The expensive, sophisticated style of clothing he’d worn on Coruscant was gone, and he blended easily into the crowd in his nondescript, slightly shabby cloak, shirt and pants. Luke had simply thrown on the oldest set of clothes he owned, trusting that several years hard wear and tear in the Rebellion would make them look suitable for the Nar Shaddaa crowd. Given that no one spared him a second glance, it seemed he’d succeeded.

“Just here,” Lor said, suddenly turning and approaching a door in one of the tall stacked buildings that lined the street. There were no labels by the buzzer buttons, but Lor seemed to know which one to press; when a voice answered, he said, “Pekka? It’s Lor here.”

“Come right on up,” Luke heard a gruff, male voice say, and then the door into the building clicked.

As they climbed the stairs, Lor said, “Now, don’t be worried about Pekka. He looks a lot more intimidating than he really is, and he has always been the absolute soul of discretion.”

The moment they were let into one of the small apartments, Luke saw what Lor meant; Pekka was a huge, green-scaled Trandoshan who easily stood a head and a half higher than Luke. He greeted Lor warmly, though, and the two seemed to know each other well. “It’s been a long time since you needed any disguise work doing,” Pekka said, once they were both seated at bar stools in his small kitchen while he made drinks.

“Well, this time my companion is rather recognisable,” Lor said.

Pekka looked at Luke, narrowed his eyes for a second, and then clicked his fingers. “Right. That Rebellion guy. Yeah, I’ve seen you on the holonet a few times.” He poured hot water into a pot and stirred, then asked Lor, “So, what kind of disguise are you looking for?”

“His cover identity is an archaeology professor from the University of Chandrila,” Lor said.

“So he can’t look too rough, then,” Pekka said. “Maybe a scar or two, from all the dangerous digs. Maybe a cybernetic eye.”

“That sounds good,” Lor said, then looked questioningly at Luke, who shrugged in a way that he hoped indicated he had no preference in the matter.

After they’d drunk tea and discussed it a little more, Pekka got to work. First he dyed and lengthened Luke’s hair, giving him a black ponytail and very scruffy bangs. Then he painstakingly applied a fake scar over Luke’s eye, which he warned would be good for no more than two weeks. “Last of all, the contact,” he said, and told Luke to hold still. Luke had a momentary flash of nerves at the thought of having Pekka’s clawed fingers near his eye, but the Trandoshan had not only filed the claws down significantly, but he had the grace and delicacy of a Nubian dancer as he gently put the contact in place. “There,” he said, “Take a look.”

In the mirror, Luke saw that he now had what looked like a deep but long-healed scar down his forehead, over one eye and across his cheek. The contact made the iris of that eye red, a subtle hint at a cybernetic eye. Combined with the hair, he looked pretty different. “It looks great,” he said.

“You’ll have to come up with a story for the scar,” Lor said. “But it’ll have to be on our way, I’m afraid, or we’ll be late. Here, Pekka, I believe this will cover it.”

“Many thanks,” Pekka said as they left, and Luke gave him a wave and a thank you in return.

“Okay,” Luke said as they wound their way back through Nar Shaddaa’s streets towards the spaceport, “How _do_ archaeologists get scars?”

Lor thought for a moment. “A fight with the guardian droids of an ancient temple?”

“Works for me.”

Lor turned his head to grin at him and said, “It looks very dashing,” which made something squirm in Luke’s gut. He looked away to hide a blush, and they didn’t talk much more before they arrived at the spaceport.

Keather Evernor had managed to convince Jamaric Farl to take them on, and had said she’d be waiting for them at the entrance to the spaceport. Lor spotted her first, and waved; Luke followed his gaze to see a pretty Pantoran woman coming toward them, dressed in shabby clothes and with her hair up in a practical twist. “Nestlat,” she said, smiling, “It’s so good to meet you at last.”

“And you, my dear,” Lor said, clasping her hand warmly. “And may I introduce my husband, Stehar.”

“It’s lovely to meet you too,” she said as she and Luke clasped hands, “Your additions to Nestlat’s messages were always so helpful.”

“Thank you,” Luke said, returning her smile.

“Now, I had to tell Jamaric you were from the Shadow University - he wouldn’t have accepted you otherwise - but now he’s pretty excited about having you around to verify his finds. You’ll be able to pull it off, won’t you?” Keather asked, biting her lip.

Luke didn’t exactly feel confident - he knew what the Shadow University _was_ , at least, though not enough to impersonate one of their professors - but Lor took the information in stride. “Absolutely,” he said. “I suppose he’s expecting us to make an offer on whatever we find?”

“He might be. I hadn’t even thought of that,” Keather said, frowning.

“No matter; we’ll worry about that when we come to it. Now, lead on, my friend.”

Keather led them through the spaceport to the bays where the much larger ships were parked. Farl’s ship, the _Event Horizon_ , was huge, a _Dragonfly-_ class heavy cargo freighter in good repair. The large cargo bay doors stood open, and a huge Togorian was pushing a hover crate up the ramp.

“Keather!”

The voice came from a Zeltron woman standing at the top of the ramp. Luke’s first impression was that she was beautiful, dressed in practical if form-fitting attire, and that there was an edge to her smile as she looked down at them. “Are these your academic friends?”

“Yes,” Keather said; it sounded like she was used to the half-teasing, half-mocking tone in the other woman’s voice. She led them up the ramp, then said, “My friends, meet Tayl Ingtru, a member of our crew. Tayl, this is Nestlat and Stehar Danell.”

“Charmed,” Tayl said, grinning widely and shaking each of their hands in turn. “You’re all Jam has talked about since Keather said she could get you on board. Why don’t you come up and meet him?”

“We’d be delighted,” Lor said. As Tayl turned to lead the way, Luke gently probed her emotions in the Force. She seemed equal parts amused and excited; there was no shock or feeling of recognition. Hopefully that meant his disguise had worked.

Tayl led them through the cavernous hold of the _Event Horizon_ , past piles of crates and many other items covered with sheets and strapped securely to the floor, over to a more open area at the back of the ship. It looked like a machine workshop, dominated by a small shuttle, with a few speeders and swoop bikes parked near the back.

Working on one of the bikes was a lean, dark-haired human man who looked to be in his thirties. He stood up, dusted off his hands and grinned as they approached. “These must be our professors,” he said, sticking out one grimy hand.

Despite the ire he’d directed at Jamaric Farl days earlier, Lor’s expression was the picture of serenity as he reached out and shook hands. “Yes. Captain Farl, I presume?”

“Just Jamaric will do, professor,” he said, turning to shake Luke’s hand as well. “I admit, I was a little sceptical when Keather first floated the idea of bringing you two on board, but I’ve come around to it. I’m hoping we can make this a profitable enterprise for each other.”

“Likewise,” Lor said. “Keather hasn’t given me many details, but what I know sounds intriguing.”

“Oh, it is, professor. But, forgive me, we don’t have much time to stand around and chat, now that you’re here. Keather, can you show them to their room? Tayl, tell Kayd to get ready to fly, and make sure the good doctor is aboard.” Jamaric nodded to all of them, then strode off down the ship, calling out, “Kron!” as he went. Luke inferred that was the name of the Togorian, as Jamaric was quickly answered by an irritated-sounding roar.

Keather led them up a nearby stairway onto the upper deck. They arrived in what was clearly a large crew lounge and galley, for now empty of occupants. Keather quickly led them out into an area where a square-shaped section of floor had been cut out of the middle of the deck, allowing them to look down into the cargo hold below. A ladder nearby looked like it provided access to the top hatch of the shuttle.

“That room over there is mine,” Keather said, pointing across the expanse of space. The floor wrapped around the walls like thick catwalks on both sides until they reached the other side of the hole, where walls jutted out. Further on, mostly obscured by the walls that made up Keather’s room and the identical one opposite, Luke could see a dim stairwell on either side that he presumed led to the bridge. “And this one is you.” Keather turned and indicated one of two doors in the wall behind them. “They’re passenger cabins we use sometimes. They’re pretty comfortable, actually.” She seemed nervous, though about the impending mission or about impressing them, Luke couldn’t tell.

“They’ll be wonderful,” Lor said. “Shall we remain here until after take-off?”

“Probably best. That’s what I do, so I don’t get in the way.” There was an outburst of shouting from somewhere toward the front of the ship, and Keather looked behind her nervously. “Okay. I’ll see you once we’re in hyperspace. If you need the fresher, it’s back in the crew lounge.”

“Thank you,” Lor said, and turned to walk into the room.

On first glance, the room was a lot nicer than Luke had been expecting. It was divided by a low wall down the centre, separating the bed from the small sitting area.

As Luke dropped his bag, something hit him.

Bed. Singular. As in, only one. For both of them.

He immediately felt a flush of heat course through him, before forcing it down firmly. Clearly, he would be taking the couch. Which, now he was eyeing it, looked distinctly uncomfortable, but it was only for one night.

Lor, who had walked round to put his own bag on the bed, said, “Well, this’ll do, won’t it? I’ve had to make do with much worse in my time.”

“Yes,” Luke said. “Do you think they bought it? Keather and Farl?”

“I would think so,” Lor said, “But unfortunately, only time will tell.”

*

Some time after the ship made the jump to hyperspace, there was a knock on their door. Keather was on the other side when Luke opened it. “Jamaric wants to see you,” she said, and Luke could see that she was nervous despite her casual tone.

“Of course,” he said, trying to ask with his eyes if there was something wrong.

She seemed to understand, and shrugged a little. Lor appeared at Luke’s shoulder and said, “We shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

Jamaric, Tayl and the Togorian, Kron, were waiting for them in the crew lounge. “Ah, professors!” Jamaric said as they entered, “Come, sit with us. We’re just going over the mission details.”

“Good, good,” Lor said, as he, Luke and Keather took seats on the opposite side of the table. “We’re all eager to get started.”

“Is it far? Where we’re going?” Luke asked.

“Not so far; maybe a twenty-four hour jump. But it’ll be nighttime soon, at least on the _Event Horizon’s_ schedule, which is what we’re all used to.” Jamaric motioned around his crew. “So I want to get these details nailed down now we have the experts here.”

“Of course,” Lor said, “Fire away.”

Jamaric touched a button on the datapad in front of him, bringing up the image of a planet. “This is Karnaos,” he said, and with accompanying pictures and diagrams, began explaining exactly what he and Keather thought they’d found on this planet, and how they planned to get to it.

Luke had been studying up on archaeology on the trip out here to help facilitate his cover story, and he’d been looking into Jedi history even longer than that, and what he saw in Jamaric’s pictures made him sit up and take notice. From his limited knowledge, it looked like Lor’s initial assessment had been correct; there did seem to be enough evidence here to corroborate Jamaric’s claim.

“I don’t expect the extraction to be easy,” Jamaric said, once he’d finished explaining it. “You know temples. The good stuff will be hidden deep inside, and probably protected in some way. But I think we can handle it.”

“We appreciate your confidence,” Tayl said dryly, and Kron snorted.

“Does Doctor Spesh know the plan?” Keather asked. “I mean. Just in case.”

“Just in case he actually decides to show up and do his job, you mean?” Jamaric snapped. “Yeah, I sent it to him. He approved it - probably without even reading it.”

Luke exchanged a glance with Lor, but both of them kept silent.

“Do you have any questions, Professors?” Jamaric asked.

Luke didn’t, but Lor leant forward, asking if he could see a few of the pictures again. Jamaric obliged, and when Tayl and Kron moved away, Lor took Tayl’s seat so he could be closer to the holoprojector.

“You want some food, Professor?” Tayl asked Luke, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Sure, what’re you guys having?” Luke asked, standing up and following her over to the galley.

“He may look like a brute, but Kron here makes a mean Bothan curry,” Tayl said. Kron grinned, twirling a spoon theatrically in his hand, before turning back to his work. “That good with you?”

Luke nodded, and leant back against the counter as he watched them work. “If there’s anything I can do to help,” he said.

“You could entertain us,” Tayl said, grinning at him. “Maybe tell us how you got that scar. Looks like it was pretty deep.”

“It was,” Luke said, and launched into the fabricated story of how he’d “lost” his eye. It was easy enough, once he’d warmed to his theme, and Tayl and Kron seemed to eat it up, asking questions and making comments as they prepared the meal.

He got so into it, he didn’t notice Keather had stepped up beside him and started listening until she said, “Is that what all archaeological digs are like?” Luke thought she sounded rather wistful.

“Not at all,” Luke laughed, “Most are a lot more boring.”

“Thankfully, or I wouldn’t have a husband at all,” Lor’s voice said, and Luke felt an arm slide around his shoulders. He instantly blushed, but he grinned and lowered his head, hoping his long, untidy bangs would hide his burning cheeks. Lor’s arm was heavy and warm around his shoulders, and it felt at once comfortable and excruciating to have it there.

Kron saved him by announcing, “Dinner’s ready!”, giving him an excuse to slip out from under Lor’s arm.

Later, when the ship’s lights had come down and the rest of the crew had retreated to their rooms, Luke returned from the fresher to find Lor scowling down at a datapad. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“A message from another of my contacts. A piece of information I’ve been looking for for rather a long time has finally turned up on Kuat, and I’m here, in no position to go follow it up. That’s the way of it, though. Nothing for months, and then everything at once.” Lor sighed and put the datapad away. “We should get some sleep.”

“Right. Could I grab a pillow?” Luke asked, spreading the blanket he’d pulled from the bed out over the couch.

Lor eyed him for a second, seeming to want to say something. Eventually he settled on, “Are you sure you’ll be comfortable there?”

“I’ve slept on a lot worse,” Luke said truthfully.

“Still-”

“I’ll be fine,” Luke said with a smile, adding in his head, _And it’ll be a lot less awkward than trying to share the bed_. Especially with the way he felt.

“Very well. Just make sure no one sees; it might blow our cover.”

“I’ve locked the door, so unless someone with the override decides to come snooping…”

Lor nodded, and they both settled down onto their respective beds for the night. Once the light was out, Luke lay in the darkness, looking up at the shadowy ceiling. Even from the couch, it still felt weird to be here, sharing a room. That didn’t make sense - he’d shared with plenty of people before - but this time it was different, somehow. He could hear Lor’s breathing, slow and steady from just a few feet away.

 _Just don’t make it awkward_ , he thought to himself, and closed his eyes.

*

The _Event Horizon_ was already pulling out of hyperspace by the time Luke woke up. His back definitely ached from the couch, but he’d slept, so it was good enough. Lor did enquire after him, but Luke waved his concern away.

The four members of the crew they’d already met had gathered in the cargo hold next to the shuttle, along with two new faces. One was a nervous, pale human man who kept fiddling with the datapad in his hands, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. The other was a sullen-looking Zeltron man, who bore enough similarity to Tayl that Luke assumed this was her brother or cousin. Jamaric introduced them quickly, giving the human a look of distaste as he said, “This is Isbry Spesh, ship’s doctor.” He gave a much warmer look to the Zeltron, who didn’t seem to react, and introduced him as, “Kayd Ingtru, Tayl’s brother and our pilot.”

“Everyone knows what they’re doing already, right? Can we get going?” Kayd asked. The way he looked up at the shuttle gave Luke the impression he was eager to get in the cockpit.

“Right. Keather and Tayl have prepared packs for everyone, so just remember the briefing, and you’ll be fine.”

Luke had hidden his lightsaber in a concealed pocket in his cloak, just in case, and had brought along his own sidearm. He noticed that when Jamaric was handing out rifles, only Tayl and Kron recieved them, though it looked like there were more than enough for the whole crew in the storage locker. Luke didn’t comment on it, and shouldering his own rifle, Jamaric herded them all into the shuttle.

The cargo bay doors opened automatically at a signal from the shuttle, and as they flew out into open space, Luke finally got a look at the planet they’d come all this way for. It was a deep, pretty purple, average in size, with very few cloud systems moving across the surface. As the shuttle came in close and broke through the atmosphere, Luke began to see the vast desert that Jamaric’s briefing had promised. The ground twinkled slightly in the light of the planet’s dim blue sun; instead of sand, the desert was made up of small purple crystals, all mostly covered in a dusting of blue-purple lichen. They crunched loudly under Luke’s feet as he stepped off the ramp of the shuttle, breathing in the clean, cold air.

Deep canyons cut across the planet’s surface in all directions; Luke could just about see the lip of one, far off in the distance. One of these cuts through the landscape promised to be the place where they’d find their Jedi temple.

Jamaric was peering down at a handheld scanner, turning it this way and that to map the land and get their bearings. Tayl and Kron were checking the sights on their rifles, and as Keather came up to them, Luke asked, “So Tayl’s brother is staying with the ship?”

Keather nodded. “Kayd doesn’t like anything except flying.” She smiled a little and added, “Well, and apparently Jamaric, since they’re engaged. But you wouldn’t know it from the way Kayd treats him.”

“I guess he’s the private type?” Luke asked, and Keather laughed a little.

“And the doctor?” Lor asked.

“He’ll probably come to the entrance, at least. I don’t think even Jamaric could convince him to go inside.” Keather glanced over at the man and lowered her voice. “He isn’t really cut out for this line of work.”

“I can tell,” Lor said archly.

“Got it,” Jamaric announced, looking up and pointing. “A few klicks that way. We’re lucky; we landed pretty close.”

The seven of them piled back into the shuttle, and Kayd took it to the edge of the particular canyon where they hoped the Jedi temple would be hidden. Jamaric and Kron broke out the climbing gear, Kron hammering a huge piton with ease into the ground at the canyon’s edge, before Jamaric looped a rope around it and began abseiling down. The rest of them watched as he eased himself down into the near-darkness at the canyon’s floor; then they heard his voice calling up, “All good down here.”

Tayl went next, followed by Kron, and then Luke. As he swung down into the canyon, Luke noticed that the same crystals that littered the surface seemed to be embedded into the rock that formed the canyon’s walls. _Maybe they go all the way through the bedrock_ , he thought.

Jamaric was scanning with night-vision goggles when Luke got to the bottom. By the time Lor had reached them, Jamaric was pointing off into the distance. “I can see it,” he said, his voice laced with excitement. “It looks pretty much like the pictures.”

“Out of interest,” Lor asked as they waited for Keather, “where did you get those pictures?”

Jamaric’s open expression froze. “From a private source,” he said stiffly.

Lor held up conciliatory hands. “I see. Well, we must thank that benefactor today, it seems.”

Luke watched Jamaric, stopping his hand from twitching towards his concealed lightsaber; and after a second Jamaric relaxed, his smile returning. “Yes, we will. Although they’ll be well compensated from the profits we make here, so it’s not like they’re getting nothing out of the bargain.”

At that moment Keather landed on the floor of the canyon. She set to disentangling herself from the ropes, not looking at Jamaric as she said, “Captain, Doctor Spesh doesn’t want to come down here.”

Jamaric spat a few curses in Huttese, then snapped, “What is a damn doctor good for if he’s not on hand when we need him?”

“Nothing,” Tayl said.

“I do have rudimentary medical training,” Lor said into the awkward silence that followed.

Jamaric sighed. “That’ll have to do. Remind me to drop that useless waste of space off at the next port.” With that, he unslung his rifle from his shoulder and began walking in the direction of the temple. For a moment Luke hesitated as the others moved off, looking back up at the lip of the canyon; then he moved on, reasoning that the doctor would likely be fine. There were no predators here, as far as they knew, and the safety of the shuttle wasn’t far away.

It was only a short walk across the canyon floor to the entrance of the temple. The door was little more than a yawning hole in the rockface, with strange geometric designs carved into the walls around it. All of them carried flashlights, and as they crossed the threshold Tayl threw up a glow orb, which burst into life, illuminating the passage as it floated along above them. The same carved patterns continued along the walls, twisting and flowing as the long entrance tunnel began to tilt downward. Luke couldn’t make out meaning in the patterns, and it didn’t look like they were trying to depict any humanoid, alien or animal form, either. He drifted closer to Lor and Keather and asked in an undertone, “Do you know anything about these carvings?”

“Distinctive of the Jedi style in the Early High Republic,” Lor said. “Which is not surprising, seeing as that period was one that included vast expansion into this area of the Outer Rim.”

“So this temple is legitimate, then?”

“It certainly seems to be.” There was a light in Lor’s eyes, and even through his demeanour of studied calm, Luke could see his excitement. Next to him, Keather wasn’t even trying to hide it; her eyes roved over the walls, a bright grin on her face.

They eventually arrived in a large antechamber. Several tunnels led off it, retreating into darkness; Jamaric convened them at the centre of the room, then turned to Lor and Luke. “Alright, professors, time to prove your worth. What are we looking at here?”

“Usually the design of a temple of this sort is simple,” Lor said. “If there are living facilities, they will be to the left; training to the right. I expect we’ll find hints of this world’s connection to the Force if we continue forward.”

“So straight ahead is paydirt, got it. Alright, Professor Nestlat, you’re with me; we’ll check out the tunnel dead ahead. Tayl, Keather, you go right; Kron, take Stehar left.”

Luke exchanged a look with Lor, who nodded to him. Despite the worry curdling in his gut, Luke thought protesting might blow their cover - and besides, Lor looked confident enough, as he strode off down the tunnel with Jamaric. Though Luke desperately wanted to follow after him, he resigned himself to going off with Kron.

The Togorian was grumbling to himself as they made their way down the left hand passage. “Always get stuck with the boring parts and the heavy lifting,” he said mulishly, not even glancing at the tunnel they walked through.

Luke was following the patterns, and recording them with a camdroid as Lor had been doing since they came in sight of the temple. “How long have you been working with Jamaric?” he asked.

“I’ve known Jam since we were kids on Eridau,” Kron said. “So’ve Kayd and Tayl. We’ve been a foursome for a long time.” He sighed heavily. “Jam and Tayl are the only ones who’re really interested in this stuff. Kayd’s just here because of them, and I’m here for the money.”

“Is there a lot of it?” Luke asked mildly.

“Oh, yeah. The temples may be boring, but Jam sure knows how to make money out of them.” Kron eyed him somewhat suspiciously. “But you must make a packet, right, professor? With your employers?”

“I do now, but I was a starving student at one point.”

Kron raised an eyebrow. “Not very long ago, by the looks of it.”

“They reward achievement in the Shadow University, not years of service,” Luke said.

“Sounds sensible.” They finally emerged into what looked like some kind of common hall. “I’ll check over here,” Kron said, not waiting for Luke to agree before he strode off.

Luke looked after him for a second, then shrugged. He would probably be able to hear the Togorian yell, if anything happened. He took one of the other doors, and spent a good twenty minutes or so poking around in all the various dormitories, ancient freshers, and what looked like a mess hall. He crossed paths with Kron a few times, and the Togorian seemed to get more irritated each time Luke saw him. _Probably because there’s absolutely nothing of value here_ , Luke thought. There was no junk or miscellaneous items; it seemed like everything had been meticulously picked up and taken away whenever the Jedi had left this place. There were bases for beds carved out of stone, their bedding either taken or long rotted away; there were the long mess tables and benches in the dining hall - but that was it.

For Luke though, it was different. Not only could he imagine the Jedi who must have lived here, once, as he strode through the halls; he could _feel_ them, feel the impression their lives had made on the Force here. He walked around with his eyes half-closed, running his fingertips along the wall, feeling the many lives that had been and gone in this place. They came to him like whispers, the voices of the ancient Jedi who had gone before him.

He was broken out of his trance by a shout. At first he thought it was Kron; but when it came again, he realised it was too faint. It had to be coming from somewhere else in the complex.

Luke began to run.

He didn’t see Kron on his way back through the living quarters and the tunnel leading there, but he did run almost straight into Keather in the main room. “Are you alright?” they asked each other at almost the same moment.

“I heard a shout,” Keather said.

“So did I,” Luke said. “If it wasn’t from either of our sides, it must be Jamaric or Lor.” _Lor_ , he thought, and his heart seized.

“Who?” Keather said, frowning, and Luke realised a second too late that he’d forgotten to use Lor’s code name.

“It doesn’t matter, come on,” he said, grabbing her hand and leading her down the central passage.

The tunnel opened out into a huge room, and despite his growing fear for Lor’s safety, Luke could feel the connection to the Force that hummed all around the space. The walls were carved in a riot of designs, and near the other end of the room, a massive, humanoid statue soared clear to the roof.

There was a rope attached to the statue’s head, from which Lor was hanging, having wedged himself in behind the statue’s knee in an attempt to avoid fire from the group of about ten large droids that were standing at the statue’s feet, shooting up at him.

The moment they entered the room, the droids turned as one to face Luke and Keather.

“Get down!” Luke said, diving behind one of the two smaller statues that flanked the doorway. Blasterfire pattered against the stone, and Luke gritted his teeth. _Perfect._ At least when he looked across at the other statue he saw Keather hunkered down behind it, her sidearm in hand.

“Nowhere to run now!” Jamaric’s voice came over the din of blasterfire. When Luke chanced a peek out from behind the statue, he saw that Jamaric was over by the larger statue’s feet, something in his hands. “Not unless you want to leave your ‘husband’ behind!”

“Dammit,” Luke muttered. From the way Jamaric said _husband_ , it seemed like he had their ruse figured out. Had he recognised them?

If he had, any hope of getting evidence of his dealing with crime syndicates was finished. The top priority was getting himself, Lor and Keather out of here in one piece - and if his cover was blown, there was no excuse not to use every tool at his disposal to do so.

“Stay there!” he shouted to Keather, and then pulled out his lightsaber.

The droids were coming closer and closer to their hiding place; Luke waited until they were only a few feet away, and then he leaped. Assisted by a _push_ with the Force, he launched off the floor and spun over the top of the statue he’d been hiding behind, igniting his lightsaber and bringing it down on the nearest droid, neatly cutting it in half.

He dimly heard a squawk of surprise from the other end of the room, but he was too focused to let it distract him, deflecting blasterfire as he turned to another droid and swung at it. The droid was backing off, and his blade just missed cutting through it’s chest; a second later the blasterfire stopped, and all the droids were backing off, raising their blasters.

“Okay,” Jamaric said, “What the kriff was _that_?”

Luke turned to find the man staring at him in shocked horror, as if he’d seen some sort of ghost. “Er… your droids were shooting at me?” Luke said.

“But you used a _lightsaber_!”

“Yes…?”

“It’s me he’s recognised,” Lor said, leaning out from his perch behind the statue. “I hadn’t thought my notority proceeded me quite that far, but apparently I was mistaken.”

“You were,” Jamaric snapped, “I knew who you were the second you stepped on the ship.” He had a sidearm in the hand that wasn’t holding the droid control panel, which he raised to point at Luke. “So who the hell are you?”

Well, there was no point in being coy about it now. “Luke Skywalker.”

Jamaric blanched, and he definitely heard Keather gasp from behind him. “The _Jedi_?” Luke nodded. “But you look nothing like him!”

“Well, if I’d come here looking like me, you would’ve recognised _me_ as soon as I stepped on the ship as well,” Luke said irritably. “Look, let’s just calm down and _talk_. What do you want, Jamaric?”

Jamaric didn’t speak for a second, his eyes darting from Luke to the droids and up to Lor. “Well, I did want to get rid of this _pest_ ,” he said, motioning up at Lor, “But I’m guessing you’re not gonna let that happen.”

“You guess right,” Luke said.

“Fine.” Jamaric scowled. “I want the droids, and my crew and my ship out of here alive.”

“And in return you’ll leave us alone?”

“I’ll leave you very, very alone,” Jamaric said. “I don’t want any of you getting back on my ship.”

“You can’t just strand us here!” Keather exclaimed.

Luke held up a hand. “It’s fine; I have a backup plan. So, you leave us alone, with all our things, and in return, we let all of you leave with the droids?”

“Yeah,” Jamaric said, his blaster hand beginning to lower.

Luke looked up at Lor. The other man looked pained for a long second, glaring down at Jamaric; then he sighed, and nodded his head. “Very well,” he muttered.

“You have a deal,” Luke said, nodding to Jamaric.

“I think what I have is a head start,” Jamaric said darkly.

“You’d best make good use of it,” Luke said, shutting down his lightsaber and stepping away.

Jamaric gave him a murderous look, but he said nothing else; he pressed a button on the droid control panel, and one by one they lined up and walked past Luke, out down the tunnel. Jamaric Farl followed them, giving first Luke and then Lor a cold, angry look. “Don’t think this is over,” he said, pointing up at Lor as he left the room.

“Not for a minute!” Lor shouted back at him.

Once the clanking of the droids had retreated down the tunnel, Luke felt his shoulders relax slightly. He hung his lightsaber back on his belt, and went over to the statue.

Lor was already clambering down. “Well, that was an abject failure,” he grumbled, brushing himself off.

“We’re still alive,” Luke pointed out.

Lor looked mulish for a second, before sighing and shaking his head. “Yes, I suppose we can be grateful for that. Even if Jamaric Farl is getting away _again_.”

“You’d met face to face before?”

“No, but I had been trying to get to sites before him, or get contacts to give me information and withhold it from him. He must have seen my face somewhere, in a holo maybe.” Lor sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“What were those droids?”

“Ancient temple guardians. Priceless, as antiques, but not really that special, compared to today’s technology.” Lor’s eyes tracked to the one Luke had cut in half, and he smiled slightly. “At least one was left behind for me to study.”

“I’m guessing Jamaric found the control panel and turned them against you,” Luke said.

“You guess correctly,” Lor sighed. “And thus, he slips away once again.”

Luke opened his mouth, trying to think of something comforting to say, but then footsteps sounded behind them. Keather was approaching, somehow both hesitant and angry. “So you’re not who you said you were at all,” she said, harsh accusation in her voice.

“In a way yes, in a way no,” Lor said, looking tired. “But I owe you more explanation than that. Come; we should sit somewhere, and get the whole truth out.”

“I would like that,” Keather said stiffly, “But first I want to know how you plan on us getting out of here.”

Luke patted his pack. “Always pack a homing beacon,” he said, “Just in case.”

While Lor and Keather went to one of the mess halls to sit and talk, Luke went back out into the canyon. Jamaric and his friends had cut their climbing line behind them, but that was fine; Luke had a grappling gun. He let it pull him up to the lip of the canyon, then set up the homing beacon. Across the flat expanse of the crystalline desert, he could see no sign of the shuttle; Jamaric and his crew had clearly hot-footed it back into orbit as fast as possible.

Luke stayed there a while, staring out over the desert, not at all willing to go back and get in between whatever was going on with Lor and Keather. He felt disappointed that the mission had failed; but then again, they’d had no way to know Jamaric would recognise Lor. And despite everything, it had brought him here, to a Jedi temple. Closer, even if only by a little bit, to the Jedi history he desperately wanted to reclaim from obscurity.

When he finally went back inside, it was to find only Lor at the mess table. “How did she take it?” Luke asked as he sat down.

“As well as could be expected,” Lor said. He looked very tired. “I don’t know if we’ll be friends, after this, but she’s still willing to accept my help.”

“That’s good.”

“Yes.” Lor sighed, and then he stood. “I’m going to find a bed, such as there is. How long do you think it will take for our rescue to arrive?”

“Probably not long; they were on standby in case of something like this.” As Lor nodded and turned toward the dormitories, Luke called after him, “Lor, I… I’m sorry it turned out like this.”

Lor looked back over his shoulder and gave him a wan smile. “So am I, but as they say, you cannot win them all.”

*

Their rescuers arrived a few hours later, just as the sun was slipping under the horizon. Standing with his hands on his hips, surveying the entrance to the temple, Han said, “You sure got yourself into a mess, huh, kid?”

“And out of it,” Luke said.

“Looks to me like _I’m_ the one getting you out of it.”

“Okay, but I’m the one who made sure we were alive so you could get here to save us.”

“Sure, however you like,” Han said, grinning at him. Then his eyes flicked to something behind Luke, and his eyebrows raised slightly. “Your friends?”

Luke turned to see Lor and Keather coming out of the temple’s entrance. “Our rescuers, I presume?” Lor asked.

“Yes,” Luke said, “Lor San Tekka, Keather Evernor, this is Han Solo.”

“A man who needs very little introduction,” Lor said, coming over to shake Han’s hand.

“Well, that means we both already know each other,” Han said, grinning as he shook Lor’s hand. Keather gave him a tight smile but nothing more as she walked past them all and up the ramp of the _Falcon_.

“Sorry,” Lor said, “We had a… falling out with Keather.”

“I can see,” Han said. “Well, go on and make yourselves comfortable. It’s a long flight back to the Core.”

“Thank you,” Lor said, and he went up the ramp after Keather.

Han turned and gave Luke a knowing look. “So you’ve been tramping around ancient Jedi temples with dangerous criminals and handsome older men?”

“Shut up,” Luke said, making to move past him.

“Handsome, fiendishly intelligent older men who just _happen_ to revere Force users,” Han said, following him up the ramp.

“Stop it. I’m not listening to you.”

“I’m just saying, I would jump on that if I were-”

Luke kicked him.

*

Later, when they were safely in hyperspace and everyone else on the ship seemed to be asleep, Luke came to sit by Lor. He was alone in the _Falcon’s_ crew lounge, nursing a glass of Han’s famously awful whisky. “Please tell me you’re not enjoying that,” Luke said as he sat down.

Lor gave him a weak smile. “Not in the slightest.”

They were silent for a moment before Luke said, “You know, even if this mission was a bust, I’d still like to help you catch Farl. If I can.”

Lor’s smile turned sly. “You enjoyed being married to me that much?”

The comment was the total opposite of what he’d been expecting, and caught him off-guard. “I- um-” Luke stammered, looking down to hide his blush.

“It was quite obvious,” Lor said, “Flattering, but obvious.”

Luke braced himself, preparing to be let down gently, but the next thing Lor said was, “I would like to work with you again, and catch up to Farl, this time; but I’d also like to go out to dinner as a purely personal occasion. How does that sound, to you?”

Luke looked up to see him smiling, charmingly, almost adoringly - but, Luke thought, with just a hint of nerves.

“Good,” Luke said, “Yeah, that sounds- it sounds really good.” He grinned, then laughed a little. “Let’s go out to dinner.”


End file.
